


Ain’t Always the Cowboy

by ScribbledGhost



Series: Wanderlust [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, F/M, Pining, Songfic, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: Jack’s closing up his bar, the Statesman, one night when a song comes on that reminds him of a certain someone. (Takes place between part 2 and 3 of Wanderlust)
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader
Series: Wanderlust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192637
Kudos: 2





	Ain’t Always the Cowboy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song “Ain’t Always the Cowboy” by Jon Pardi

Two months.

Two months since Jack Daniels had watched you walk out of his bar, tears in your eyes and his heart in your hands.

Actually, it had been two months, three weeks, and four days, but who was counting. Certainly not him. It certainly wasn’t he who found himself leaning on the bar after hours most nights, the only light on in the place being the dim closing lights overhead as he stared at the door as if willing you to show up on the other side. It wasn’t he who’s heart sunk ever so slightly lower every time he heard the door open, only to look over and find it was someone else walking in.

It wasn’t Jack Daniels who appeared to be nursing a broken heart. Absolutely not.

He had gotten into a conversation with Champ earlier that evening about you. Just one of many, really.

“She’ll be back, son,” Champ said with such conviction that Jack had to stop himself just short of asking the older man if he’d personally asked you himself, “she’ll tumble on back in someday. I know it.”

“Sure hope you’re right, Champ,” Jack muttered. He’d long since given up trying to hide his affections for you from the older man. He was wise enough to see right through the facade that Jack had constructed. He’d been in Jack’s shoes more times than he could count.

“I just…” Jack began slowly, “I just don’t know what it is about her, Champ. I’ve seen plenty of drifters come and go. But I ain’t never felt like this. It’s never hurt like this.”

“It’s cause you love ‘er,” Champ said simply as he took another swig of his beer, as if he hadn’t just delivered a statement that Jack was now frantic to disprove.

“I’ve only met her _twice_ ,” Jack countered, “I barely _know_ her.”

“Bah,” Champ said with a dismissive wave, “you know ‘er. I _know_ you do. ‘Sides, you ain’t gotta know her to love her. She had you wrapped around her finger the second she walked in the first time. Somethin’ happened between the two of ya that night. And I _ain’t_ talkin’ about what happened after hours.”

The knowing grin Champ gave Jack was enough to send heat climbing onto his face, but Jack attempted to ignore it to the best of his ability.

“No, I think ya both found somethin’ that evenin’, and I think it scared ya both,” Champ contiunued, tilting his beer bottle up to finish off the last dregs at the bottom before getting up from his chair and bidding Jack goodnight after paying off his tab.

As Champ walked out, leaving Jack the only soul left in the building, he pondered what he’d said. Jack had admitted to himself long ago that he’d felt something when you’d first walked in and sat down. Some kind of spark, some kind of red thread of fate tugging at his heartstrings, beckoning him to get closer and find out more. He’d realized that was the case the second time you’d come back around and he’d felt pure elation pouring into his fibers. He’d known as soon as he’d walked you out to your car after the night you’d both spent together that he hadn’t wanted you to turn into another one night stand. But he never let himself get close enough to thinking that the same might be the case for you. He’d dealt with enough heartbreak in his time, and he wasn’t eager to invite more in. But it appeared that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. You’d walked into the bar and kept walking straight into his heart, and you’d seemed to take up a permanent residence there.

Jack was pulled from his reverie by the sound of heavy rain starting to pour outside. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it was raining where you were, too. Maybe you were even caught in the same rainstorm, so close and yet so indescribably far away. As the rain continued to pound on the windows, Jack set about his nightly cleaning duties. Just before he grabbed his typical cleaning rag, however, he flicked on the radio he kept behind the bar. Normally he would have gone over and played a song on the jukebox, but he hadn’t used that thing after hours since the last time he’d shared a dance with you. The opening chords of a song started to play, something he hadn’t heard before.

> _Her hands wrapped up in mine_
> 
> _Tears rollin’ out of her eyes_

His mind immediately drifted to you.

> _No messin’ with a made-up mind_
> 
> _Sun settin’ on goodbye_

Yep, definitely you.

> _Yeah, it’s hard to believe_
> 
> _It wasn’t me tryna leave this time_

Jack stopped in his tracks, as if the song itself had climbed out of the radio and smacked him. God, had they written this for _him_?

> _It ain’t always the cowboy_
> 
> _That ain’t got a lot of hang around_
> 
> _Ain’t got no settle down in their boots_
> 
> _Gone’s just what they do_
> 
> _That restless runnin’_
> 
> _Searchin’ for somethin’_
> 
> _Leavin’ love in the dust of a midnight Chevrolet_
> 
> _It ain’t always the cowboy that rides away_

Jack took a deep breath, almost feeling the tell-tale pinprick of tears at the edge of his vision. And here he thought he’d been the only cowboy alive who’d dealt with someone leaving him in the rearview mirror instead of the other way around. The rain continued to pour outside, as if the world was crying in ways he couldn’t bring himself to. He steeled as much of his resolve as possible, continuing to wipe down the tables and pull up the chairs, shutting the house lights off as he finished each section.

> _I’ve never seen over from this side_
> 
> _Never heard lonely get this quiet_
> 
> _Still, I can’t keep from smiling_
> 
> _‘Cause damn, that girl can fly_

Jack smiled along with the lyrics as the chorus played again, knowing he felt the same way. He hoped you found whatever you were looking for out in the big, wide world. He really did. Of course, he hoped more that you’d realize that what you were looking for was right where he was, but he truly did wish you the best. You deserved nothing less, after all. He remembered how you’d looked in his bedroom the night you’d stayed with him, positively ethereal and glowing and everything good that the universe could grace the world with.

> _A tumbleweed heart chasin’ that wind_
> 
> _Goin’ too far, wherever that is_

That’s what you were – a tumbleweed heart. A little bundle of branches and twigs that had snagged him when you’d rolled on by and had taken his heart with you when you’d left. Jack continued to close down the bar, shutting off the outside sign and the rest of the inside lights. As the song played it’s last chorus, and as Jack sympathized once more with the singer who lamented about how the one leaving wasn’t always the cowboy, he heard something from outside.

It sounded like a faint knock, though it was difficult to hear over the rain. He shrugged it off, figuring it was someone desperate for a drink that Jack wasn’t going to give them at this hour. When the song faded away, he shut the radio off completely and continued turning off the rest of the lights, hoping whoever was still knocking at his door would take the hint and leave. Unfortunately for Jack, however, the person on the other side was persistent, and the knocking became more frantic.

Eventually Jack let out a frustrated sigh, raking his hands down his face and mentally preparing to tell his unwelcome guest that the bar was closed and that he was done serving for the night. A spark of hope lit up his chest when he thought of how it might be you on the other side, desperate to see him again, but he managed to tamp the spark out before it could grow into a flame.

But when Jack Daniels opened the door to find _you_ , the one person he’d been wanting to show up on the other side for so long, the spark returned with such force that it almost knocked the wind out of him. As he tugged you inside and out of the rain, he couldn’t help but think to himself that his little tumbleweed had finally tumbled back to where you really belonged – into his arms, letting the dust settle behind your midnight Chevrolet


End file.
